


A Wavering Stability

by Solelity



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Death, F in the chat for Mark, Gilles is soft, Jordan is scared, M/M, Mild Gore, if nobodys gonna write about the ship I gotta, it's like 1:30am at the time of writing this, no drafts or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solelity/pseuds/Solelity
Summary: Jordan and Mark are much more than friends. Mark is the rock Jordan leans on emotionally, whilst Jordan is who Mark goes to for understanding and cheerfulness. Despite being polar opposites, they get along perfectly.Well, got along.





	A Wavering Stability

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 1:30am, in one go, on a phone, without me reading back over it. I just wanted to write and I did what my brain told me to. Please tell me if you want to see more of this!

Jordan was tightly curled up on his bed, hands roughly tangled in his hair as he stifled his sobbing. There were gentle footsteps outside his room, pacing about and almost threatening to come in. He was scared. He was oh so scared of what the future held, of what the current held and of what his past held. It was overwhelming.  
“Jordan?,” The familiar voice rung out. “Can I come in?”  
He jolted upright, even if he was expecting it, it still caught his attention. The voice belonged to someone he cared about, but he was too out of it to recognize who. He sent a desperate glance throughout the room before taking a deep breath, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and answering.  
“Yes, come in.”

Mark opened the door gently, light pouring in from the small crack. He could barely see Jordan as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. Carefully, as to not slam it, he shut the door behind himself and made his way over to the American. He had been off all day- distant and detached, Mark was concerned. It wasn't normal, at least compared to his typical outgoing personality. His hand reached up to Jordans cheek, gently rubbing circles on it with his thumb in a calming gesture. Jordan melted into his touch, sighing quietly and trying to hide a sniffle. Mark sat down on his bed, gesturing for the other to join him.  
“What's up?” His tone was one erring on cautiousness, as close as he and the American were, he didn't know what could possibly set him off. He wanted to avoid bringing up his own topics and instead let the other begin.

“I-” He paused, running a hand through his hair before gripping it tightly. “I don't know. I don't know.” The phrase repeated itself in his head, only distressing him further. He knew it wasn't true. He knew why. He fine well knew why. His hands moved to his eyes as he brought his knees up to his chest, trying to wipe away the tears that were already welling up in his eyes. “I've just felt so trash lately. I don't know why, or when it started happening, but I just feel awful. Everything feels… pointless.” As muffled as his voice was, Mark listened in to the best of his ability. His arm wrapped around his shoulders as he gave him a reassuring rub.

“It's alright to not know what's making you feel bad. What's important is that you speak to someone about it and don't just bottle it all up. I am and will always be here for you,” He pulled the American closer, into a semi-embrace. “I won't be leaving any time soon.”

Oh how Jordan wishes that had been true.

\----

Viciously jolting awake, the soft light from the risen sun streaming through his window made it difficult for him to see. A rush of cold sweat went over him- he couldn't remember why he had so suddenly awoken, and perhaps that was for the best. His train of thought was completely cut off by a harsh knock on the door, before it clicked open to reveal a very disappointed Eliza.  
“Jordan,” The tone she used was almost like a mother scalding her child. They had a sibling like relationship but at times it didn't feel like it. “It's 4pm. You literally just woke up? You have places to be tonight.” Jordan looked at her in disbelief, scoffing. “It can't be four.” He looked at the clock on his bed side table.  
4:27 PM.  
Fuck.

The next half hour was spent with Eliza nagging his ears off and him getting himself ready for what little of the day he had left. Him and a few of the others from different CTUs had planned a night out at a local pub, a 'sesh’ as James had so gracefully phrased it. Of course Jordan had accepted to go, pleased with the chance to sit, unwind and have a beer around people he liked. People he was comfortable around.

\----

“Hey, Trace?”  
A call of his name pierced through the air, interrupting him from a long period of intently staring at his empty pint on the table before them. He hastily glanced around to see who had called for him, before his eyes landed on Gilles who was currently giving him a concerned look. “You alright?” The comment was an odd one, seemingly out of the blue, but he gave a confident smile to the Frenchman and an approving nod. “Yep, I'm fine. Just thinkin’.”  
He sure was. But about the wrong things.

Images flashed through his mind, mangled limbs and blood splattered across the floor as he haphazardly dragged himself and an unconscious Mark out of the building. The overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that went over him irked him, causing him to stand up and gently smile at the rest of the group. “I'm heading out for some fresh air. I'll be back in a minute.” He said, before moving to the door of the pub to sit by the street on the pavement, both hands in his hair as he tried to stay calm. Remember the breathing exercises he always taught you?  
_Remember him? Remember the way he would hold you tight, tell you he would never leave? Do you remember?_

Tears streamed down his face to seemingly no end, and perhaps time had passed quicker than expected as he suddenly felt the presence of a hand on his shoulder. He slowly glanced behind himself to meet the eyes of whoever was there.  
“I know it's hard,” The voice behind him, who Jordan recognized as Gilles, spoke in a calm and reassuring tone, keeping his hand on the other mans shoulder. “But you're strong. You'll get through this, Trace. Believe me when I say that. It's what he would've wanted.” His words were recognized, but practically went in one ear and out the other. Jordans eyes had a glassy, glazed over look to them. He regretted going out now. No matter how many people he was surrounded by, no matter how much reassurance he got, he was still alone. Mark was still gone, and it was his fault. It was his fault for not being cautious enough, for not caring enough.

The next he knew, he was back inside, sitting at the bar with Gilles. They shared minimal small talk, mostly silently keeping to themselves whilst drinking together. He was a good man, and that was something Jordan knew for sure. But sometimes he couldn't quite grasp the concept of grief as well as he could of. At least there was a comforting presence at last. Someone he could trust other than Eliza. Someone who, oblivious in some ways, understood and cared. Who didn't avoid the issue. He slowly found himself nodding off, his head resting on the GIGN operatives shoulder. That was the only sign Gilles needed before he decided it was time for them to go back to base.


End file.
